


Ninety Seven Years

by Quinnoid



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: 174 spoilers!, Assuming the resurrection fails, Assumptions about Cel's backstory / motivations, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Platonic? QPR? Shippy? You choose!, Tagged as both just in case, canon character death, discussions of death and self blame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27036934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinnoid/pseuds/Quinnoid
Summary: "Does it ever get easier? The moving on?"
Relationships: Celiquillithon "Cel" Sidebottom & Zolf Smith, Celiquillithon "Cel" Sidebottom/Zolf Smith
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	Ninety Seven Years

**Author's Note:**

> This is preemptive coping for if the resurrection fails. Vague assumptions about Cel's backstory based on what we know.

“Cel?” Zolf asks. They’re in his cabin, curled around each other on his bed, both trying not to fall apart completely. His arms are tight around their waist, while they cradle his head, fists bunching in his shirt. Their legs are tangled together in a way that must be uncomfortable for Cel, but they haven’t let Zolf move once. Cel shifts just enough to respond without digging their chin into his temple.

“Yeah?”

“Does it ever get easier? The moving on?”

They’re quiet for a long moment, and Zolf can feel them start to tremble slightly. “No.” They finally say, and it’s hoarse and broken and so completely opposite of what they normally sound like that Zolf looks up. Cel’s eyes are squeezed shut, jaw clenched so tight their teeth might crack. Despite their efforts, the tears start to fall anyway. Zolf rubs their back gently. He has no clue what to say, years of poorly dealing with his own grief being entirely unhelpful. When they start to speak again, it’s through sniffles and shuddery breaths. “It’s been ninety.. four? Seven? Ninety seven sounds right. Ninety seven years that I’ve been alive. And it’s only gotten harder.”

“Oh.” Zolf doesn’t want to think about what that means for him as he leans back into their chest. He focuses on them instead, ignoring the drunken voice in the back of his head mumbling about projects. “Did you want to talk about it?”

“No,” They laugh humorlessly before continuing anyway. “Mr. Smith, I promised myself I would never go adventuring again. I moved to the island to get away from all of my past, all of my mistakes, all of my, my, my issues, all of the people that I.. that I killed. I tried so hard to be good. Even when the lads and blokes came, I just.. Dealt. I didn’t try to attack Shoin, or kill him, or anything and I was proud of that, even though it meant some people got hurt. But I could live with that as long as  _ I _ wasn’t the one hurting.. Killing people again. And then you showed up. Told me the world needed saving again and after we did so well, er, okay.. Good enough in the institute I thought.. Maybe I was good enough. Maybe I wouldn’t make a mistake this time. Maybe I was better.” They laugh again, and it's bitter and cracked. “I should’ve known better. I’m not a good person.”

“Cel.. what happened here, it wasn’t your fault. I told you-”

“All due respect Mr. Smith?  _ I _ built the ship.  _ I _ built the box.  _ I  _ said it was safe.  _ I  _ am the reason everyone got body swapped.  _ I  _ am the one who suggested going back through an aurora to fix it.  _ I  _ am the one who said it would be fine. And  _ I _ .. I’m the reason they’re dead.”

“I’m the one who crashed the ship.” Cel starts to sit up and say something, but he cuts them off. “I mean, If we’re gonna throw blame around, I’m the one who couldn’t land the damn ship. People didn’t die because we were sailing through the sky in new bodies. People died because they were violently thrown off a crashing airship.” He sighs. “Look, we can play the blame game and try to one up each other, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. I’ve spent enough time thinking I was grieving by thinking about all the things I did wrong and what I coulda done better. I’d rather grieve by remembering them. The good times. The funny times. Not the bad stuff. Not right now.”

Cel doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move for a long while. Zolf watches them carefully. He’s beginning to get a bit afraid he might’ve upset them when they finally settle back down and pull him close. “I was supposed to teach him alchemy. Wilde. I wanted to give him back a little bit of magic.. Even with the cuffs.” 

“He would’ve really liked that.”

They laugh again, and it’s still broken and aching but it’s a real laugh. “He called himself a grizzled old airhand. Did he tell you that?” Zolf shook his head. “When you were talking to Earhart right after the bodyswap, I asked him who he’d have liked to be swapped into and we talked a bit before he excused himself as ‘grizzled old airhand Oscar Wilde. Esquire.’ to steer. Made a bunch of awful puns too.”

“Heh. Sounds like him. He uh, he told me once that he got one of my previous party members to make a bunch of puns. She was.. She was real stoic and.. Immature ain’t the right word, but she was just a kid still. And she grew up underground, so she just.. Oh. This story won’t really make sense to you, sorry.”

“It’s okay.” They mumble into his hair. “Tell me about her?”

“Are you sure? I didn’t mean to change the subject like that.”

“Yeah. I’m sure. I’ve been ah, stuck in my head long enough.”

“Right. Well. Her name was Sasha.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sad About RQG hours is going to be happening for the next four weeks, minimum folks. Happier stuff to come soon tho


End file.
